The chef tugs at the breast of his own jacket. 'No. I don't have my name stitched on it,' he says. 'I hate that sort of thing. I really do.' And in that one gesture Bruce Poole has summed up the entire appeal of our restaurant of the year, as voted for by you, the readers of OFM. Chez Bruce in Wandsworth is the definition of the word 'unpretentious'. It is a quality restaurant, cooking delicious food, serving it with the minimum of fuss - no silver cloches or pompous recitations of ingredients here - in comfortable but unshowy surroundings. And no, the chef's name is not on his jacket, as it always seems to be in those big, central London places.

Granted, the chef's name may actually be on the front of the restaurant but, says Poole, that was a joke. After all you can't get a more unlikely mix than the fey, acquired Frenchness of 'Chez' with the big, masculine sound of a bloke's name like 'Bruce'. Even so, Poole admits that he's not entirely comfortable with it, and wants me to know it wasn't his idea. 'I suppose the name works,' he says, 'though only in spite of itself.'

But all this bothers the chef far less than getting the basics right. 'I think it's important there's a sense of a heart beating in a restaurant,' he says, as we stand in the kitchen during a mid-week lunch service. 'People want to know there's a personality to it, though I don't like them thinking it's my success because, however corny it sounds, it's a team effort.' He shrugs. 'Still, I'm sure I've got something to do with it.'

Not least with the Michelin-starred menu which, he accepts, is driven by his tastes: 'French food is what I know and what I like, and I genuinely only cook the kind of food I want to eat.' So it might be a dark, glossy daube of venison or a rich parmentier of oxtail, the long-braised meat layered under a cushion of perfect mash. Chez Bruce is the place for a gentle confit of salmon or roast cod with olive-oil mash. And it is always the place for a perfect crème brûlée.

And yet, for all the plaudits that have come its way over the years, Poole is still determined that Chez Bruce should, at heart, remain a neighbourhood restaurant; a reliable place where the (admittedly rather well-heeled) locals in the suburban enclave of Wandsworth can be assured of getting a great meal, at a price that won't require them to sell their kids into slavery. The lunch menu is £23.50. At dinner it rises to £37.50, which is still good value. 'I don't want to sound ungrateful,' he says, 'but being recognised as a success can be a double-edged sword. It's lovely for everyone involved but it sometimes makes it harder to find tables for the locals who have always supported us.'

Perhaps he understands this so well because he too is a local. Poole, a big tall man, with chunky arms and a barrel of a chest, lives not far away with his wife and three daughters and understands instinctively what his core punters want from a restaurant like his.

Poole's modest and unassuming style is in marked contrast to the antics of many other, highly regarded chefs. But then his background is rather different too. For a start Poole, who grew up in Surrey, has a degree in history from Exeter University. He didn't even start working in a professional kitchen until his mid-twenties. 'My dad was a painter and teacher so there were long holidays,' he says. 'We used to go caravanning in Europe and eating out was a big part of it.' He remembers, aged seven, eating rabbit or frogs' legs and being impressed with himself.

It wasn't until he went to university that he started cooking for himself, though even then he was still planning to pursue a career in hotel management. Eventually, after training with a hotel group, he moved to London and worked on the management side of restaurants. But all the time he found himself drawn to the clatter and hiss of the kitchen, so in the late 1980s he wrote to some of the city's greatest restaurants, among them Le Gavroche, Kensington Place and Alastair Little. It was Simon Hopkinson at Bibendum who eventually gave him a job. 'It was his handwriting that made me interview him,' Hopkinson says now. 'It was lovely. The letter was also grammatically correct, which made a change.' He was, Hopkinson adds, a very quick learner who was willing to turn his hand to any section. It was a great time to be at Bibendum; working alongside him was Jeremy Lee, now at the Blueprint Café, Phil Howard, of the Square, and Henry Harris of Racine.

'I was really surprised I got the job because I'd had no training and at first I really struggled.' But, over time, he found his feet and there's no doubt that working with Hopkinson left its mark upon him; there is the same commitment in Poole's cooking to getting the basics right. After Bibendum he went to the Square and then ran the kitchen at Chez Max in Fulham.

It was there, in the mid 1990s, that he was approached by the restaurateur Nigel Platts-Martin, who owned a restaurant in Wandsworth called Harvey's. It had been put on the map by Marco Pierre White, who in the late 1980s had won two Michelin stars for ethereal cooking, and headlines for shouting at customers. 'I was a bit wary,' Poole says. 'I didn't just want to come here as another head chef. It had to be more interesting.' So Platts-Martin suggested that Poole run the whole restaurant. He also suggested the name change.

Within weeks of opening in February 1995, the reborn restaurant was getting rave reviews. 'All I did was write the kind of menu I thought people would want to eat,' he says. 'There would have been an onion tart on it and definitely crème brûlée. That's always been on the menu. We make bloody good brûlées.' What he wanted was a successful restaurant; he hadn't thought that it might win a Michelin star. Nevertheless in 1999, it got one. 'I was gobsmacked,' Poole says.

It also became famous for its now 450-strong wine list, which has won countless awards in its own right. Enthusiasts travel great distances to try some of the more unusual bottles they keep in store. 'Well that's because I'm bonkers about wine,' Poole says. 'It's very important to me.' According to The Observer's Tim Atkin, it's that enthusiasm from all those involved in the wine side of the restaurant which most comes across. 'What I like about it is they're not afraid to promote things from offbeat places,' he says. 'And it's not aimed at expense-account diners. It's for people who like wine.'

Today, Poole is a partner in the business, and also owns a large share with Platts-Martin of both La Trompette in Chiswick and the Glasshouse in Kew. His 13-strong brigade is so experienced that he only needs to work five or six services a week, so he can spend weekends with his family. But he's always around the restaurant, and is always trying to develop dishes.

The only problem now is finding enough room for all the people who want to eat at Chez Bruce. Recently the restaurant has had to employ more receptionists to handle the phone calls, and they've also been getting a few more complaints. 'We've been voted people's favourite restaurant this year and some people have assumed that meant we were the best,' Poole says. 'Then these people turn up and say, "You're not the best restaurant in Britain." And the thing is we've never actually claimed to be anything.' Because making those sorts of claims would be more than a little pretentious - and that is the one thing Chez Bruce never wants to be. OFM